So I have officially invited other ‘delicately’ emerging playwrights to read my blog for small pieces of joy/inspiration/brutal doses of reality/cute little ha-ha’s in the privacy of one’s own apartment.

I hope I get response! I think it’s a fantastic idea, she said as she patted herself on the back, which is sort of odd and hard to do.

So because of this invitation – I thought I would introduce my theater Company – Working Man’s Clothes Productions – to my blog -as I introduce my blog to Smart People I Don’t know.

WMC, meet the blog. The blog, meet the Smart People I Don’t Know. (You guys are all smart, just so you know. Let no one make you feel like you’re not.)

By ‘My’ theater company, I don’t mean MINE, I don’t mean to insinuate that it runs out of my head or my living room. I mean that I helped start the company three years ago, with some stellar people I met at Grad School. Since our genesis, we have produced like 30 plays or something crazy stupid like that. We work out of the American Place Theater, mainly – (this is nYC by the by) – we have three main stage productions – 6 readings – and two festivals a year.

Hats were seriously tipped to us last fall when we won 6 New York Innovative Theater Awards including best new play for a production of my play, To Nineveh.

We are at http://www.workingmansclothes.com. please come play with us!

For WMC, I serve as Director of New Play Development. This means, I am totally your friend. Please send me plays at bekahb@workingmansclothes.com.

I love these people. All the Working Men. We survive because we love each other and love working hard and making something out of seriously nothing. (Money? Ahem. Hmm. Right. We don’t really have any of that, per se.) This makes what we do minimal, hardcore and magical.

If you are a writer – do it yourself. Put your show up yourself with your friend who does ‘sound design’ i.e. obsessively makes playlists and listens to too much Django. Kiss the ass of that guy you once met who knows a guy who knows a guy who knows of a space. Print the programs off at the computer lab. Stay up all night eating too many Doritoes talking about the play. Get lost in it.

DO IT YOURSELF!

So that’s Working Man’s. I’ve got a bottle of lukewarm Chardonnay and an unfinished Drama Play calling my name.